Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand)
by The Yankee Countess
Summary: Set in a dystopian future where people called "drones" must pedal on stationary cycles to help produce energy for the country, newcomer Alfred meets Tom Branson, a man who speaks very little, has a tragic past, and who is collecting "merits". For what purpose, Alfred doesn't know; but it might have something to do with a girl. Inspired by the BBC drama "Black Mirror"
1. Chapter 1

_NEW STORY! Ok, so I happen to share my birthday with the crazy-talented **kinghanalister**, and she had mentioned to me that she had recently seen the episode "15 Million Merits" in the BBC drama, "Black Mirror" (interestingly, BOTH Allen Leech and Jessica Brown-Findley were featured on this show, but sadly not in the same episode. Ah well!) _

_JBF is in the above mentioned episode that kinghanalister had seen, and to give you a "brief" idea, it's set in a future dystopian society where people work by pedaling on stationary cycles (for purposes of fueling energy, or so they're told). People earn "merits", which can be "spent" on a great number of things, but if you earn up to fifteen million, you can "win the chance" to appear on a reality TV show (like The X Factor) and make a gamble with your life for something better..._

_If you're familiar with the episode in "Black Mirror", you'll be able to follow along fairly closely. If not, feel free to watch it (it can be found on youtube-but warning! It's very angsty), OR you can choose to be "surprised" with this story as it goes along._

_OK! Understand? So this story is set many, many years ahead into the future; the people who cycle live in what's called "work houses", where they eat, sleep, work, and are monitored constantly. Hopefully it will make sense as it goes along. The story is told in two ways: in the present, through the POV of Alfred, and through Tom's flashbacks._

_Alright, world's longst A/N. THANK YOU FOR READING (still) and please share with me your thoughts! And again, HAPPY BIRTHDAY KINGHANALISTER, my birthday twin! :oP_

* * *

**"Anyone Who Knows What Love Is**_ (Will Understand)"  
**by The Yankee Countess**_

**I**

"…And this is the canteen. All of your meals are eaten in here, and only during the designated windows in your work schedule, so I suggest you not squander them when you get the chance," muttered his superior, as he finished showing him the Downton facilities. They were a bit nicer than the last work house he had come from, but still…a work house is a work house, whether it was in the country or the city.

"Alright," his superior groaned, making no attempt to hide his boredom. "Any questions?"

Alfred shook his head. "No sir."

"Good," his superior grumbled, before leaning over to one of the machines in the canteen and punching in some numbers on a tiny keypad.

"180 merits," an electronic voice responded.

His superior swore, before muttering, "highway robbery", and holding his wrist under a glowing light. His wrist bore a white armband, the same sort of armband that Alfred wore. A sound was made by the machine, and the electronic voice spoke again. "180 merits have been deducted. Thank you."

"No, thank you," his superior sarcastically replied, and Alfred watched as a pack of cigarettes fell out through the machine's window. His superior bent to retrieve them, and didn't waste any time, taking one of the cigarettes and lighting it, before closing his eyes and inhaling upon it deeply. Alfred had never cared for smoking; of all the things to spend one's merits on, it seemed like a complete waste.

"Come on," his superior sighed, after exhaling a thick cloud of gray smoke. "Time to meet your bunkmate."

Alfred followed his superior down a long corridor, one that twisted and turned so much, Alfred wasn't sure if he would remember which way to go to make it back to the Downton canteen. "Right, here we are," his superior mumbled, the cigarette between his lips. They were standing outside a beige door. It looked exactly like every other beige door on the corridor. They weren't even marked! How did his superior know which one was his?

"Branson!" his superior shouted, not even bothering to knock.

No answer.

His superior sighed, before pounding his fist on the wall beside the door, and just like at the canteen, a tiny screen appeared, with a built-in keyboard. His superior punched in several numbers, and door automatically opened.

"There's no point in knocking," his superior answered the unspoken question. "He wouldn't have answered anyway."

Alfred frowned and looked inside the tiny room. All it contained was a simple bunk bed. Nothing else.

"Branson," his superior called out, and it was only then that Alfred realized someone was in the room!

He was lying flat on his back on the top bunk. He lifted his head, looked down at them, and then rolled right back over onto his back.

"Yeah, real talker this one," his superior muttered to him, before turning back to "Branson". "This is Alfred; your new bunkmate. Try not to kill him."

Alfred's eyes widened in shock and his face went pale at his superior's words.

For the first time since meeting the dark-haired man, his superior chuckled.

"Right, that's that; get some rest, Alfred. Because tomorrow, you'll wish you had it." And without another word, his superior walked out of the room and the door shut right behind him.

Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but the lights in the room instantly dimmed, and a voice was heard overhead, that same electronic voice that had spoken from the machine in the canteen, "mandatory lights out in fifteen minutes."

Alfred eased away from the door…and turned his head towards the bunk, looking somewhat nervously at the still image of his bunkmate.

The man (Branson) didn't move. Not even a twitch.

"Um…like he said, I'm Alfred."

No answer.

"I…I came up from the city," he went on. "They transferred me from there to here."

Still no answer.

"How long have you been here? Was this your original work house?"

His bunkmate rolled over onto his side, facing away from Alfred.

Still silent.

Right, so that's that then. Alfred shook his head and eased himself down onto the bottom bunk. He had been warned by his superior that his bunkmate was a "real talker". But what did he mean about _"try not to kill him"? _Surely that wasn't the reason—

Music suddenly began to play and fill the space. The sound of The Anthem filled the room and Alfred quickly rose from his bed and stood straight and to attention. He stepped aside so that his silent bunkmate could leap down and do the same…but the man didn't move.

Alfred's eyes widened. But…but it was against the rules not to stand and show respect when the anthem played! Wasn't it?

"Ten minutes before mandatory lights out," the electronic voice spoke, after The Anthem had concluded. "But please, use this time now to make your Vision Selections for your work day!"

Alfred glanced at his bunkmate, but again, the man made no sound, nor did he move from the position which he held. Alfred frowned, but his attention was drawn back to the wall screen, which took up the entire north wall, as various squares (smaller screens) danced around, highlighting different programs that one would choose to be their "vision selection" for the work day.

It was much of the same at his former work house. Game shows, classic sports, reality competitions, pornography—

Alfred's eyes widened.

_Pornography!? _

…As an actual option for one's "Vision Selection"!?

His old work house in the city _never_ had THAT!

Alfred reached out and touched the small square on the wall screen, and his wide eyes only grew wider as the screen filled the wall, and various beautiful women wearing very little, filled his vision, while a voice narrated, "the HOTTEST women, who will do ANYTHING for it, who will get down on their knees before you and BEG FOR IT! 60 merits for fifteen minutes of raw action; 100 merits for thirty minutes; 150 merits for an hour's worth of non-stop, uncut, nasty, dirty—"

The screen changed to the image of a wooded path, the sounds of birds singing filling the air, while a calm voice spoke about rejuvenation in nature. Alfred's brow furrowed; what happened? He hadn't touched the wall to indicate a change—

Alfred gasped as his bunkmate stepped in front of him, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with unreleased fury. The man was shorter than himself, but despite that fact, Alfred found himself shrinking back, especially when he heard his bunkmate's—Branson's—knuckles crack his hands clenched into fists.

"That channel…" Branson growled, his eyes never leaving Alfred's as he took several threatening steps towards him. "…Is _NEVER_ played in here. Understand?"

Alfred swallowed and quickly nodded his head. "Yes…yes…I understand, I understand," he assured. "I'm sorry, I…I'm sorry."

Branson remained close, his eyes remaining locked on Alfred's, and Alfred had a feeling that despite the dark coldness that stared back at him, it would be far worse right now if he looked away.

Branson continued to hold Alfred's frightened gaze for a few more seconds…before finally turning and easing away him, his fist semi-punching the wall, and the electronic voice from earlier announced, "Branson: vision selection…"pine road". Total: 10 merits. Please hold wrist band to wall."

Branson did so, his eyes still remaining on Alfred, as something in the room scanned his armband.

"Thank you. 10 merits has been deducted. You remain with a total of...13,277,486."

Alfred's eyes practically leapt from his skull.

_Thirteen-million, two-hundred and seventy-seven thousand, four-hundred and eighty-six merits!?_

Was that…was that _even possible!?_

Alfred had never met anyone who had more than ten-thousand merits! He barely had a thousand, himself! And yet his bunkmate had _over_ thirteen million. He was so amazed by this revelation, he completely missed Branson's wince at the mention of his amount.

"I…that…" Alfred was stammering, but he couldn't help it! "That's…that's amazing!" he managed to gasp at last. "You have OVER thirteen million merits! That…that's the most I've ever heard a person having! Certainly the most of anyone I've ever met!"

His bunkmate just shrugged his shoulders, his expression never changing. Without another glance, he turned back to their bunks and hoisted himself up to the top, resuming the position he had before he leapt down to confront Alfred and warn him.

"It's still not enough," was all Branson said.

* * *

"_It has to be rigged, that's the only explanation…"_

_He laughed at her cynicism. "You don't think anyone can earn up to fifteen million?"_

_She looked over at him from her cycle and giggled, that beautiful sound that was sweeter than any music he had ever heard. _

"_Do you?" she asked, her eyebrows lifted._

_He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe; I mean, I've never met anyone with that many, but…" he paused and did the calculations in his head. "It would take a while, no denying that…"_

"_A _while!?"_ she gasped, laughing again. "It would take YEARS! And I don't just mean 'storing up' merits, I mean, a person would really,_ really _have_ _to make sacrifices, and I don't just mean opting out of a Vision Selection," she pointed at the wall in front of them. "But...the very basics! Meals, comfort—hygiene," she made a face then which got him laughing. _

"_Heaven forbid," he chuckled._

"_Laugh all you want now, but you would think very differently if your cycling partner hadn't showered in the past ten days."_

"_Ah, so that explains the smell…"_

"_OH!" she gasped, and then reached over and swatted him, which only had him laughing again, catching her wrists as she tried to continue her swats, the action nearly causing her to lose her balance from the cycle, but he had her—he'd never let her fall._

"_OI!" barked a superior from behind them. "ENOUGH OF THAT! GET BACK TO WORK!"_

_She rolled her eyes, and he did his best not to keep laughing._

"_I'm really disappointed in Thomas," she sighed, looking over her shoulder at the dark-haired man who had barked at them. "Ever since he was made a Superior, he's been rather unbearable."_

_He lifted an eyebrow at this. "He was bearable before?"_

_She swatted him again, though maintained her balance this time. "You haven't known him as long as I have, he can be very thoughtful if he wishes."_

_He snorted at this. "Well, he hasn't 'wished' in a long time then."_

_She didn't argue with him._

_They resumed their cycling, that comfortable silence that was uniquely their own, falling upon the both of them once more._

_The Vision Screen before them was blank; every so often an advertisement for programming would pop up, encouraging them to spend their merits, but in truth, they were both very content to just focus on the blank wall and do their work side by side, be that in silence, or while talking; it didn't matter, things just felt…right…when they were next to each other._

"…_What's the highest amount of merits you _have_ ever encountered?" she asked him, breaking the silence._

_He looked back at her with some surprise at the question, and frowned as he thought long and hard. "I think…yeah, there was someone at the last work house where I was, that had over 500,000…but I've never met or heard of anyone getting anywhere close to a million, let alone fifteen-million."_

_She nodded, her eyes still focused on the wall before them._

"_What about you?" he asked, gazing at her profile. Even the simple act of watching her pedal made him smile, he couldn't deny. And his smile only grew as she scrunched her own face up in concentration._

"_...You know, I think…yes, yes, I actually _do_ remember someone who had just over a million!"_

"_What!?" he looked at her skeptically. _

_She turned and looked back at him. "Just a moment ago you were the 'optimistic one', challenging me about my doubts on anyone being able to obtain fifteen million—"_

"_That was hypothetical, this is an actual person that you _know_," he clarified._

_She shrugged her shoulders. "Even so, there's only one reason to store up that many merits."_

_He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and noticed how she was gazing at the small screen, hiding in the corner of the larger one in front of them, the screen that advertised the very program that had started this conversation._

"_Fifteen million merits for fifteen minutes of fame?"_

_He had said it in a teasing voice, but when she turned and looked at him, there was no trace of humor in her eyes. In the time he had known her, he had never seen her look so serious._

"_No…" she murmured. "Fifteen million merits…for a ticket to a _better_ life."_

**...to be continued**

* * *

_So what did you think? Hard to understand? Eager to learn more? *crossing fingers* Please share with me your thoughts! THANK YOU!_


	2. Chapter 2

_ACK! So sorry for how long this took to update. I'm going to work hard to make sure I get this story updated a lot more this fall season. But thank you for your patience, and thank you also for those that were so kind to leave reviews after the first chapter!_

_As I mentioned in the last chapter, this is a take on the BBC sci-fi drama "Blackmirror" (similar to "The Twilight Zone") specifically the episode "Fifteen Million Merits", and is more or less *my* take on if that story had been a Sybil/Tom story (and how I would have wanted it to go). And just a reminder, that the first half of each chapter is told from Alfred's POV, and the second have is in flashback, told from Tom's._

_Ok, enough chit-chat, on with the story. But again, THANK YOU for sticking with it or for clicking and reading for the first time now! It will be angsty, but I will also do my best ot bring out the loveliness of our fav Irishman and English lady. THANK YOU and please share your thoughts!_

* * *

**II**

He awoke to an empty room. Alfred was a bit dazed when the alarm went off (which thankfully wasn't like the alarm of his old workhouse, which not only screamed in one's ear, but shook the bed, while here it was just a soft "ringing" sound, with the lights flashing overhead), and with a yawn, rose from the bunk and stretched his long limbs, turning to see if his bunkmate was still asleep…only to find that the bed was unoccupied.

Alfred frowned. Where on earth had he—Branson—gone?

"One-hundred and twenty seconds till doors open," the electric voice announced overhead. Alfred knew what that meant. He quickly changed into his work clothes for the day and tied his shoes, before a loud buzz blared overhead, and the door to his room opened.

He filed out, and for the first time since his arrival, saw his fellow workers. They were filing out into the corridor like him, some looking barely awake, while others were already jumping, stretching, and cracking their necks, as if preparing for a long day of work ahead.

But before any of that was to take place…breakfast.

They all filed into the canteen, and Alfred quickly stepped aside, watching as people went up to the machines that the superior had shown him yesterday when he first arrived, punching in various number sequences into the keypads, before holding their armbands out for the machines to scan and deduct. Some workers settled on what appeared to be a simple bowl of porridge, while others spent a bit more and got eggs and toast. Everyone, it seemed, got coffee.

"You're new," he heard someone comment, and turned his head then to see a small, almost elfish looking girl gaze up at him, her eyes large and her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"I am," he confirmed, blushing a little. "My name's Alfred, I arrived just yesterday."

The girl smiled, though it was small (rather like the rest of her). "Daisy," she told him, holding her hand out to him. He shook it. "Well, if you need help with anything, from getting around or knowing how something works…"

"The superior showed me yesterday," he told her. "But thank you, I appreciate it."

She smiled again, a little bigger this time. "I um…I don't suppose…" she started, and then blushed and looked down. "I doubt that you have, you only just started," she mumbled.

He looked confused. "What?"

Daisy looked back up at him. "Just…well, you could, if you like, have a cycling partner—"

"Who's this?" a blond man asked, coming up next to Daisy and peering at Alfred, though he was not unfriendly looking.

Daisy, however, looked a bit annoyed at having been interrupted. "This is Alfred, he just transferred here."

"Ah! Fresh blood!" the blond man chuckled, and then slapped Alfred (a bit too hard) on his shoulder, though he could tell there was nothing malicious in the gesture. "I'm Jimmy!" the blond man introduced. "And this…where'd she go? IVY!" he called out to a girl who looked to be having a difficult mind making up her mind on what to get from the machines. However, she lifted her head at the sound of her name. "Come meet—what was your name again?"

"Alfred," Daisy muttered.

"Right, Alfred—COME MEET ALFRED!" Jimmy called back to Ivy, and the girl (who Alfred couldn't deny, he found rather breathtaking) finally came over to join them.

"Hello," Ivy greeted, smiling sweetly.

Gosh she was lovely. "H-h-hi," Alfred stammered, which earned a giggle from Ivy and a laugh from Jimmy (and eye roll from Daisy)

"According to Daisy, Alfred just transferred here," Jimmy explained. "Where were you before?"

"London," Alfred told them, which earned wide-eye surprise from all three.

"Really?" Ivy gasped. "Why in heaven's name did you leave?"

"Actually, the workhouse there wasn't as nice as this one," and it was true. He wasn't missing anything from his old workhouse.

"No, Downton is one of the best, even if it does seem boring after a while," Jimmy said with a nod, trying to sound like he knew more about something than he actually did. "So, who are you bunking with?"

Alfred frowned at that and looked around the canteen, wondering if he would see his missing bunkmate eating breakfast with the rest of the workers, but the stocky Irishman was nowhere to be seen. "That's the thing…" he mumbled. "I woke up this morning, and he wasn't there! He'd already gotten up—"

"Oh my gosh!" Ivy gasped, her hand going to cover her mouth and she looked at Jimmy, whose own eyes had widened in realization.

"What?" Alfred asked, feeling a bit out of place. They clearly knew something he didn't.

"Oh no…" Jimmy murmured, though despite his words, there was clear merriment in his voice as he was chuckling and shaking his head in "sympathy". "Oh no, you…you're bunked with _Branson!?"_

The tips of Alfred's ears felt like they were burning, along with the rest of his face. Apparently this was a big joke to Jimmy and Ivy, though Daisy, Alfred noticed, didn't seem to share in their amusement. "Don't know why you're laughing," Alfred grumbled. "Nothing funny about that one." And it was true, he still remembered the way Branson got into his face the previous night when he had "accidently" stumbled across the pornography option for his Vision Selection and more or less, threatened to hurt him if that channel was ever played in their room…even as just an advertisement.

Jimmy tried to get a hold of himself. "Sorry, sorry, no, we're not laughing at you, in truth…we feel sorry for you!"

Alfred wasn't sure that was any better.

Jimmy leaned in, and lowered his voice. "Branson—he's weird, that one!"

"Always keeps to himself," Ivy added. "Never talks to anyone."

"And don't be surprised if he's not there when you wake up—he's always cycling before everyone else," Jimmy added. "In fact…I can't even imagine him sleeping. Are you sure he sleeps?"

It was a teasing question, but Alfred could tell that there was some genuine curiosity in Jimmy's question.

"There was a rumor that he did something to his last bunkmate—"

"That's not true," Daisy interrupted Ivy, giving the other girl a look of disapproval. "You're wrong about him, he's just…"

Her voice trailed off, and Jimmy lifted an eyebrow. "Just _what_, exactly?"

Daisy groaned and rolled her eyes. "Nothing, never mind," she muttered, before turning and walking away from them.

Alfred frowned, while Jimmy and Ivy just shook their heads. "Daisy's just sentimental about everyone," Jimmy muttered before turning back to Alfred and patting his shoulder in reassuring gesture. "Anyway, you should be fine, so long as you keep to yourself and stay out of his way."

Despite Jimmy's efforts, Alfred didn't exactly feel "reassured".

A light overhead began to blink and people started to scramble and finish their meals. Ivy began to groan that she hadn't gotten anything, and would now be starving until the next meal break, which was the same for Alfred; his supervisor hadn't been wrong about how important it was to act when the designated meal times were given.

A bell rang overhead, and all of the workers quickly started to file out of the canteen, and Alfred followed, getting in line behind Jimmy and Ivy and following them down a long corridor which eventually filtered out into a large room where endless rows upon rows of cycles waited.

People walked up to various cycles without a backwards glance and proceeded to climb on, punching in a sequence of numbers on a keypad connected to the cycle, and their viewing screens lit up with different projections, some of which Alfred recognized from the previous evening.

"Just take any cycle that's available," Jimmy told him, before he and Ivy turned and took two cycles that were a few feet away, side by side. Alfred tried not to feel a little disappointed as he watched Ivy go off with Jimmy.

He continued to look around the room…and paused when he saw one cyclist sitting a good ways away…and sitting all by himself.

His bunkmate, Branson.

There was no one on either side of him, in fact…from what Alfred could tell, it seemed that people were avoiding him at all costs.

The calm forest path which Branson had "bought" with his merits from the previous evening was displayed before him, but the man didn't seem to be paying attention, he was just hunched over the cycle's handlebars and was peddling at a good, brisk pace, the muscles in his shoulders, back, and legs quite visible through the fabric of his work clothes, and already, Alfred could see a long, dark sheen of sweat appearing on the back of Branson's shirt as he pedaled.

How long had he been there? Alfred still found it amazing that his bunkmate was even allowed to come in and cycle before the designated work time, but he had heard stories from other workers, how some workhouses allowed this, and any merits collected by workers during those "off hours", the workers could keep entirely to themselves, rather than offer up a percentage of what they earned to the workhouse itself, during "normal hours".

And that was when Alfred remembered the amount of merits Branson had. _Over thirteen million!_ One didn't just get to thirteen million by working normal hours. And that brought up another question; what was he saving all those merits for?

"Take a cycle," a supervisor barked nearby, and Alfred swallowed and nodded and…not seeing any other readily available to where he stood…reluctantly walked over to where Branson was, and climbed on to one that was nearby (though not directly next to him).

If Branson was aware of his presence, he didn't show it. Nothing seemed to break his stride, he just continued to pedal, as if that cycle weren't bolted to the ground. Alfred swallowed, and turned his focus back to the blank wall (he never made a Vision Selection) and started to pedal, knowing he had a quota like everyone else to meet. Yet he couldn't help, every so often, glancing over at the other man, and just…wondering…

Who _was_ Branson?

* * *

"_Um…hello?"_

_He was hunkered down over the handlebars of his cycle when he heard her voice, low and husky. He turned to his left, and then gripped the bars to keep from falling off, as he was surprised by the sight of her pretty face leaning close._

"_Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized, quickly taking a step back and biting her lip in embarrassment._

_He swallowed and shook his head, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious about how sweaty he was. "You didn't, I…" he blushed and shook his head. "Sorry, I um…"_

_She was smiling at him, her bottom lip held between her teeth and he felt his heart suddenly speed up._

"_I'm Sybil," she introduced, holding her hand out to him._

_He blinked for a second, then looked down at her offered hand, and then finally reached out and took it, shaking it in his. "Tom," he answered, before adding "Branson," which was how he was called by his supervisor, so as not to confuse him with Thomas, another worker._

_Her grin broadened. "Pleased to meet you, Tom."_

_He nodded, though he still wasn't exactly sure what else to say. He wasn't used to…interacting…with others._

"_Mind if I take this cycle next to you?"_

"_Um…" he looked around; there were other cycles nearby that were unoccupied, and more choices for her to sit and cycle near others who were much more…social, than himself. Yet she seemed content with her choice, and was patiently waiting for him to answer, so he swallowed and nodded and murmured, "sure," to which she smiled again, punched in the numbers on her cycle, and proceeded to climb on and start._

_He glanced at the Viewing Screen in front of her, which suddenly lit up to a serene and peaceful looking forest path. She sighed, almost wistfully as she gazed at the nature scene, before she started to pedal. _

_She glanced at the wall in front of him, no doubt taking notice that it was blank. "Oh, will this bother you?" she asked, pointing at her screen._

_He shook his head. "No, it's alright," he assured. "And…if I can be honest, I prefer the nature scenes to the other channels."_

"_Oh I agree! So many of those other channels are just obnoxious," she groaned with a roll of her eyes. Tom couldn't help but grin at the gesture. _

"_And…" she added, leaning close so only he could hear, though there wasn't anyone else close enough to overhear. "I'm just so glad that you're not one of those blokes who has to have _'Wraith Babes'_ on," her face contorted with disgust._

_He understood what she meant. He knew several workers who were clearly addicted to the channel and all of them were complete wankers. "I normally cycle away from everyone because I prefer the quiet," he confessed. "But like I said, the nature scenes are fine…I just hate spending the merits."_

_Her eyes widened at this. "Oh? Are you saving them for something?" Her cheeks suddenly flooded with color and he couldn't deny…it made her already pretty face even prettier. "I'm sorry, that's me being nosey, just forget—"_

"_It's alright," he chuckled. "No, I um…I'm actually trying to save up enough so I can…" he looked around, just to make sure there were no supervisors walking within earshot. "…So I can go home."_

_Her eyes widened. "Oh my…" She now started to glance around the room too. "Is home…Ireland?"_

_He nodded, pleased that she had recognized his accent. As far as he was aware, he was the only Irish worker at the Downton workhouse. "Aye," he answered, with a bit of a cheeky wink that caused her to giggle. He was finding that he rather liked the sound. "Dublin, to be exact."_

_Now she looked very curious. "How did you come here?"_

_He sighed. "Well, I…I had a cousin…" he began. "He um…he had a debt, you see, and…well…" he started to glance around again, and then felt something touch his hand, and looking down realized…it was her._

"_I understand," she murmured, and when he looked into her eyes…he could see those weren't just words she was saying to be kind._

_She really _did_ understand._

"…_You?"_

_She nodded. "Yes," she whispered, but if she was going to add anything more to that, she didn't. Which was fair…everyone was entitled to their secrets._

"_Well…I think that's very noble of you," she said after a pause, smiling again._

_He blushed. "I don't know if it's 'noble', but thank you."_

"_It's a very worthy goal to aim for," she continued, referring now to his goal to gain enough merits to return to Ireland. "I hope you achieve it, and soon!"_

_He smiled and nodded his head in thanks, and a silence fell between them then, and even though they had only just met…it was oddly…comfortable._

_He glanced at her, his brow furrowed slightly. "Sorry, but…I don't think I've ever seen you around here before."_

_She blushed and looked down. "I um…I was here, once, and then transferred out…and now I'm back."_

_It wasn't missed on him that again, she wasn't volunteering more information than necessary, and he knew when not to pry, so he left it at that. Besides, they had only just met._

"_Hey!" she turned and looked at him, a big grin growing on her face once again. "Would you be interested in becoming partners?"_

_He almost skidded off his cycle at her question. "Partners?" he stammered, blushing deeply._

_She bit her lip to hold back her giggles. "Cycling partners," she amended. _

_Oh, of course._

"_It's just…I mean, I know you're supposed to 'share merits', so that may not sound desirable, but I am actually a fast cycler, and I do know that if you have a cycling partner, it's easier to meet the daily quota, therefore any merits earned afterward can be stored up for personal—"_

"_Alright, alright," he was laughing then, but his spirits had honestly never felt lighter. "You've convinced me."_

_She blinked, and looked rather surprised. "Really?" she asked, her sweet smile spreading further than before. She had a beautiful smile…_

"_Aye, really," he confirmed. "But don't hesitate to tell me to slow down if it gets to be too much."_

_She smirked and poked her tongue out before settling into a good rhythm on her cycle. "Just try to keep up, Branson."_

**...to be continued**


End file.
